A Child's Innocence
by SupernaturalDiva
Summary: What happened during the years between Mary Winchester's death and the search for John Winchester in the first season of "Supernatural?" A Child's Innocence follows the young father as he rids the nation of evil while attempting to raise his young sons.
1. Chapter 1

"Knock it off, boys! Dean! Leave your brother alone and get in the car!" John Winchester crawled out of the black Impala to see where his sons had run off to. Twelve-year -old Dean had his eight-year-old brother, Sam in a headlock, and was in the process of giving him a fairly violent head-rub.

"Dean! Ow, that hurts! Stop!" Sammy, a few inches shorter than his older brother, and quite a few pounds lighter, was having a difficult time escaping this trap. It didn't matter how hard he pushed on Dean's chest or how far he dug his nails into his forearms, Dean would always be stronger.

"Oh, you're such a wuss." Dean finally let go and shoved Sam into the door of the car.

"Dean, watch the car. Kids, quit messing around. We've got things to do today!" John had had enough. He had been putting up with the boys all day. They had woken up in yet another hotel, and Dean and Sam had been nothing but trouble since they kicked each other out of bed at 5am this morning in a fight for the blankets. In addition to burning John out, both had been antsier as usual, and he had yet to figure out why. "Come on." He said a bit gentler.

Dean shoved Sammy out of the way of the passenger door and attempted to pry the door open around his brother, who was now on the ground.

"Dean!" Sam whined, slowly getting back up and dusting himself off. He didn't bother even trying to fight his brother in this match. "You always get the front!"

"No, you got it yesterday!"

"Dea—"

"Sam, just get in the car. I'm not in the mood today."

The boys climbed in and shut their mouths until about a mile down the road. "Dad?" Dean tested out before going into a full conversation. He wasn't sure Dad was up to talking.

"Yea?" John let out a bit more gruffly than he had meant.

"When are we going to settle down? When do we get to hunt with you?"

"Dean, you know I can't let you guys hun—"

"Dad, we're sick of sitting in nasty hotels all day. I'm sick of hanging out with him all day." Dean made a gesture to the backseat.

"Hey!" Sam stuck a finger in his mouth, which somehow made it into Dean's ear without Dean catching him first.

"Ew, dammit, Sam!"

"Sam, knock it off. Dean! Language! Be the better man. You're his older brother; you're supposed to take care of him. It shouldn't be a chore to hang out with him all day."

"Dad, I don't care. When do we get to hunt?"

John sighed. He hadn't wanted to get his kids involved with the hunting scene, but after the death of his wife when Sam was just an infant, he had no choice. He had been on the hunt for the creature that killed his Mary for the last seven years. He knew Sammy didn't want a life traveling across the country, but he had no one to take care of either of them. His parents were dead, and Mary's parents Samuel and Deanna had never been much help in the raising of the boys. They loved them, but Samuel was a hunter himself. It would be the same. He also knew Dean was just biting at the bit to get out there and save the innocent from the horrifying supernatural entities that few knew existed. Just last night, John had left the boys alone in their hotel room to investigate a shape shifter case.

"Maybe soon. We'll see." John muttered as they continued down the road to their next unknown destination.

While Dean and Sam ate breakfast at a silver chromium diner just north of the minute village of Junction City, Arkansas, John sat on the opposite side of the table, stressing over a case that had just opened up. He looked up, smiling at the boys as they ate side by side, getting along for once. No punching, no hitting, no kicking, no name-calling…just civilly eating.

John was taking up most of the table with newspapers, books and his journal. His journal was his Bible. It had every beast, spirit, demon, and other supernatural entity featured within its torn and battered pages. Only a human's darkest, evilest beliefs deserved a place in this masterpiece. It was a supernatural hunter's dream to own a book like this. Its margins were packed full with information about these creatures from what types of climate or locations brought them out to play, what they ate/preyed upon, were they a threat to society, and among many other trivia, one important detail held its place above the rest—how could they be eradicated from this world. It was a mix of folklore as well as real life experiences. John had been keeping the journal ever since Mary had perished from the earth at the hands of—well, he hadn't quite figured that one out. The journal consisted of every creature John had come into contact with—and many others he hoped he never would.

Right now, he was reading an article in the Daily Junction Herald about a woman's body found in her own home. No one had been home at the time, and the husband and two sons came home to find her strewn upon the floor, her entire throat ripped out, by what they claimed was a dog or wolf. Strangely enough, there was no trace of a fight. No evidence that anything—human or animal had been in the home. John sighed. At least the family hadn't been home.

_Sam's cries had jolted John awake. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, the TV still casting light and movement across the ceiling and walls. Sam had been such a light sleeper since he had been brought home from the hospital only ten weeks ago. John groaned and rolled off the couch, heading up the stairs. Sam's lights had been turned on, and John figured Mary had already been up to try and calm the fussing child. _

_ "Hey, buddy, hey, hey, you're going to wake your brother and Mom up. Shhh…." John picked his son up and cradled him in his arms, bouncing him gently up and down. Sam finally started calming down a little bit with each motion. His tiny body, less tense than it had been before. As John placed Sammy back in his bassinette, a small splash of red dotted his forehead. John hesitated. Maybe he accidently cut Sam's forehead a little as he rocked him? How? He looked down at the buttons on his shirt, and then back at Sammy. Another splotch of red. _

_ "What the hell?" John looked up. The entire ceiling was engulfed in growing flames! And strangest of all, his beloved Mary was in the middle of the ceiling, mouth wide open, staring wildly back at him, burning in the flames. Then, and only then, did John hear the crackling flames, the screams from his beautiful wife, being burned alive. John yelled. How did she get on the ceiling. His mind raced from thought to the next, and then finally onto his children. John thought he had ridded himself from this other world when he married Mary, but this moment proved this notion wrong. Dead wrong. Supernatural forces were at work here. There was nothing more he could do, and as pain, guilt and more sorrow than he ever could imagine now bore their weight upon his shoulders, he deeply regretted not being able to save her. Right now, he had to get his children and escape before the home burnt to the ground. _

"Dad?" John snapped back to the present as Dean patted his arm. He had had the flashback again, at the diner, and his two sons were now staring wide-eyed at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, yea, I'm fine." He took a deep breath. The inhale caught in his throat, and he felt warm and dizzy. Nausea played in the pit of his stomach. John felt the blood rush from his face. He had been looking into this new case, with a beautiful wife and the mother of two sons, and had been reminded all too well of his own tragedy eight years ago. He closed his eyes and counted silently to five. As the feelings of illness wore off, John found his voice again, "Um, finish up your eggs—we have to hit the road."

"Dad, we just got here." Sam argued.

"Samuel, don't argue, just do. Get in the car." As the boys inhaled their breakfast, John tossed some wadded up bills on the table and escorted Dean and Sam out to the Impala.

As they drove several miles into the small town, Sam softly hummed in the backseat while playing his Gameboy, and Dean sat up front playing with the lock on the door—pushing the tab in and out. The clicking was getting to John as he drove silently.

"Dean, stop, please." The clicking continued

_Click _up, _Click_ down, _Click _up, _Click _down. Until John swung an arm across Dean's chest and grabbed his hand.

"Ouch, Dad!"

"I said, stop!" He knew he had grabbed Dean harder than he had meant to, but it was the little things that were annoying him. Really getting on his nerves. "Look, I'm sorry, but I asked you to stop."

"Dad? What's going on? Is it the case? What was it?"

John sighed, "I—I don't—I don't know. That's what I'm going to find out."

"Are you going to kill it? Can I help?"

John was silent for a moment. He hadn't wanted it to come to this. He hadn't wanted Dean—or Sammy anywhere near this lifestyle. And here it was. His own son asking to take part in a hunt too much like the one that already tore part of his life away. He swallowed.

"Um, when I figure out what this is, and I determine the danger level behind it, we'll see." Dean smiled and nodded.

Seeing his oldest son, dark haired, brown-eyed and handsome, ready to get down and dirty, made John realize how much Dean was like him. Seeing him get excited about something for the first time in days almost made John forget about the troubling case laid out before him—almost.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do the autopsies say on how she died? What were her injuries?" John questioned the Junction City sheriff, Rick Olman.

"Who did you say you were again?" The large, red-faced sheriff tilted his hat back as he took a good look at John. His eyes flickered to the window above John's head as a tree branch clicked against the pane in the moonlight. It was around eight PM. Rick had taken extra time before running home for the night just to speak to John.

"Detective Jimmy Wagner from Magnolia Police Department. Just passing through and wanted to see if I could help with the case. Saw some of this a couple years ago when I was living up in Milwaukee." After a few years of this, infiltrating the police and government officials was something that came easily for John.

"Is that so?" Olman gave him a skeptical glare.

"Sure is. Now, what was so special about this case? Why did it draw your attention?"  
>"A woman in our town of six-hundred was murdered. Throat ripped out. This kind of stuff—it doesn't happen in our town. Why do you think it drew my attention?" Olman snapped, his bulbous nose growing redder as he grew more frustrated. John stayed calm.<p>

"That's exactly what drew my attention when I read about it. Pretty, single mother in a small town. Shouldn't have died like this. No one should have. Anyway, how do think she died? Was she well known? Did she have enemies?"

"Mary Schuster was well-loved in the community." John winced as the woman's first name shot a pain through his heart. "She was the president of the PTA. Her children were star pupils in the school district. She was an amazing English teacher. I don't have a clue who would want to kill her. Um, autopsy report states that it looks as if an animal of some type did it, but they can't necessarily rule out a human, or an animal urged by a human."

"Why can't they rule out a human? Was DNA found?"  
>"Not exactly, but a hair was. A human hair. DNA is still being tested, but you know, with our technology…there's just no way. That stuff's difficult to track. They're working on it, but there's not guarantees."<p>

"Of course. Did anyone report anything suspicious around the Schuster home recently?"

"Not that I was told. Some coyotes in the farm yard across the field, a wolf or two. Nothing in particular that could get into someone's home. Especially not to do the damage that was done. Her head was almost severed off her neck. A dog or wolf's jaws are strong, but they aren't capable of something like that—not a lone one anyway. A pack attack would involve multiple body parts. The injuries were limited to her neck alone. I can't imagine an entire pack getting into her home. " John could. If this was something paranormal, there could have easily been a phantom attack—an entire pack of ghost-like wolves or dogs getting into a home without invite. The silence was almost eerie as John's pen scraped across the lined pages of his notebook—taking detailed observations on everything that came out of the man's mouth. The phone in between the men shook as it almost rang off the hook, causing both to jump a bit. Olman picked it up.

"Sheriff Olman…how can I help you?" After a few moments of his face contorting into confused and angry expressions, he responded, "Shit, Garrison, not again. I'll be on scene in 10."

"Everything okay?" John asked as Olman slammed the phone down. He put his hand over his face.

"That was one of my deputies. It happened again. Shawna Graham, mother of two boys found with her throat ripped out in her own kitchen. I gotta end this now; you're welcome to come with. Don't touch anything."

"Agreed." John leapt up after the heavy-set officer as he grabbed his gun belt and satchel and waddled out the door of the office.

"Dean? Where are you going?" Sam whined as his older brother threw on his jacket.

"Dad promised I could help him hunt. I'm going to find him. I'm going to hunt tonight." Dean stood up straighter to show that he meant business and his little pip-squeak of a brother wasn't going to stop him from sneaking out to do whatever it took for him to get his first hunt.

"Dad said stay put. He said don't go anywhere. What am supposed to do all night?"

"Dad said stay put," Dean mocked in a high pitch voice, "I don't care. I'm getting my first kill. Tonight. And I don't care what you do tonight. Just don't go anywhere. Don't open the door for anyone. Don't answer the phone." The door slammed, and Sam was left alone in the dim motel room to occupy himself for the rest of the night.

It didn't seem to occur to Dean that he was only twelve years old and shouldn't be wandering around by himself at odd hours of the night. He was so high on the excitement. So intoxicated by the opportunity of killing his first paranormal entity, he wasn't aware he had no idea what it was he was after, or even how to kill it for that matter.

As Dean approached the sidewalk outside the small, dimly lit motel parking-lot, a blur of red and blue lights raced past him, ruffling his light brown hair. The glint in his eyes radiated off the street-lamps, as he burst at the seams with anticipation. Dean was grateful it was night, and the ambulance, while traveling quickly, was easily traced. Dean did not have to walk very far down the road to find the home that was under investigation.

Dean ducked behind a large oak tree in the neighboring yard and watched as a corpulent police office headed into the home, followed closely by none other than John Winchester. Dean smiled to himself. He had used his own skill to get here. He had known there may be trouble when he spotted the ambulance. He had known that trouble may be caused by abnormalities. He had known if anything weird occurred, his dad would be on the scene in a heartbeat.

He stayed with the shadows as he crept closer to the home. Finally, Dean was close enough to see into the living room window, which showed the kitchen in the distance. His father and the police officer, who he recognized at this angle to be the town sheriff, were huddled with two other police officers at the side of a shape crumpled on the floor. Dean's stomach churned as he realized it was a woman—blood caked across her neck and pooled upon the floor around her. He looked away, and caught movement in the corner of his eye. He spun completely around, coming face-to-face with his little brother.

"Sam!" Dean hissed under his breath, capturing Sam by the collar of his jacket and shoving him into a nearby tree. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the motel!"

"Jerk! Let go of me! Dad—Dad told you to stay put! I came to get you! I followed you! Go back!"

"You go back! I'm sick of what Dad says! Now go back to the room, and don't you dare tell Dad where I went!"

"No, Dean! I won't! I don't want to be there by myself! Come back with me!" Sam whispered back, getting louder.

"Shut your mouth, Sammy! I'm not getting in trouble!" As Dean spun Sam around to push him back toward the sidewalk, Sam's eye caught the scene unfolding in the house. He fought Dean to get a closer look.

"What—what's going on? Is that Dad?" Sam finally unlocked himself from Dean's grasp and he ran over to the window to get a closer look. Sam and depth perception at night never did get along very well. A loud, echoing _crack!_ was heard as Sam hand hit the siding of the house. Everyone inside froze, as Dean caught Sam by the waist and pulled him under the window ledge.

"Jesus ,Sammy, now you've done it!" Dean punched Sam's arm.

"What the hell was that?" Sheriff Olman gripped his gun in his hand. John shook his head, motioning for the sheriff to be quiet. Olman kept his hand back, pushing John out of the way and together they crept toward the front door. It creaked on its hinges as they slunk through the door way and on to the porch, guns drawn.

"Run!" Dean yelled at Sammy. There was a gun shot into the darkness. Dean looked back; Sammy had frozen in the yard, unable to move. He realized he was okay, not harmed in anyway, but the gunfire had scared him so badly. As Dean grabbed Sammy's hand, they rounded the corner house and ran smack into their father.

"What the hell are you kids doing out here?" Their dad roared. Sammy backed down on the grass and immediately started crying.

"It—It's Dean's fault! He came—he came to follow you to see if he could hunt tonight! I followed because—because I didn't want to be at the motel alone!"

"Dean!" John spun around and grabbed Dean by the scruff of the neck as he tried to get away. "You're not going anywhere! Are you trying to get yourself and your brother killed?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Dad. I just—I just—I'm so sick of this! I just want to hunt!"

"Well, that's not happening tonight, and you're going to be damn lucky if it ever happens! Now, you both are going to get into Sheriff Olman's cruiser and come with me to the station so we can go over details about tonight. I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

"Yes, sir." Dean had immediately morphed into an obedient child under the influence of his father's anger. John picked Sam up off the grass.

"Come on, Sport, let's get you in the car. Stop that. Stop crying, now. It's okay."

As the four shadows crawled into the police cruiser, no one seemed to notice the large animal prints disappearing in the mud next to the tree. No one had felt the warm air of the creature's breath as it chose its invisible form to take careful note of its next victims. No one had heard the low, powerful growl the creature made in her chest as she took one last whiff of their scent and got back down on all fours before trudging back into the woods behind the home.


End file.
